Free Prayers for the Dying (Pam of Babylon Book Four) by Suzanne Jenkins Page B

the door with his eye to the peephole, watching Jack go to the stairway door, bypassing the elevator. Feeling empty and depressed, he went back to the bedroom and stood next to the bed for a good minute. The urge to get back in and sleep for the rest of the day was strong, but he had an appointment before dinner. He reached down and with unaccustomed violence, yanked the sheets off the bed. He suddenly wanted no sign of Jack Smith in his apartment. He grabbed the pillows and shook their cases off, throwing them across the room into the chair by his desk. Striping off dirty sheets felt empowering. He made up the bed in fresh linens and took the sullied sheets to the hallway where the washer and dryer were closeted. Stuffing them into the washer, he shook at least twice the recommended detergent over them. Jack’s DNA would be eradicated, too. Feeling better, he got into the shower and washed the remaining evidence of their lovemaking down the drain. The feeling of decisiveness would last into the night, but by the next morning, he’d be crying again, missing Jack, begging him to come over one last time.

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    9
    I n Babylon, light snow continued falling throughout the day without much accumulation. Dave dropped off bottled water at Pam’s in case the power went out, along with the few groceries on her list. He promised to return in time for the evening news. It had become a tradition for them to spend a few hours together during dinner each night, watching the news and eating dinner on TV trays, just like an old married couple. Pam remembered feeling content doing similar things with Jack until she found out the truth about him. She was up front with Dave.
    “Are you sure this is what you want to do? Sitting in front of the TV, eating dinner like old folks?” she asked. “I’d hate to find out that you are bored silly. I mean, would you rather go out?” She was pouring fresh coffee for him while he ate. He looked up at her, concerned.
    “What’s this all about?” he asked in return. “I like our routine. It is what I do when I’m home alone, except the dogs are begging for food while I try to eat. I should be asking you if you are okay with it.” They hadn’t talked about Jack yet, so he was in the dark about the origin of Pam’s misgivings. Realizing what he said may have been insulting to her, Dave continued, “Maybe asking you to do what I do with my dogs when I am home isn’t fair to you, either.”
    Pam started laughing. “Trust me, this is exactly what I like; being in my own home, cooking for someone I care about, sitting here at the window overlooking the water. In my opinion, it doesn’t get any better than this. But if you get bored with this arrangement, you have to tell me, okay? Don’t make me guess after it’s too late, and you are ready to move on.” She hoped he wouldn’t press for details, and was relieved when he didn’t. But she decided to share a little more with him. “My husband and I did this very thing on the weekends that he was home and I thought he enjoyed it. Since his death, I discovered he led a different life when we were apart. I don’t want to repeat the same mistakes I made with him,” she said, careful to leave out, “when I am with you.” She finished pouring the coffee and sat down to eat. Dave brought prepared food from the store frequently, but Pam was beginning to enjoy cooking again, almost as much as she did when her children were home and Jack was alive. Dave was a grateful dinner guest after having to cook for himself for most of his life.
    “This is a delicious salad,” he told her. “I rarely eat raw vegetables because they always taste dirty to me.”
    “Do you wash them?” she asked innocently.
    Dave was discovering that there was a naivety about Pam that was both appealing and made her ripe for teasing. “Are you supposed to wash them?” he asked.
    Pam burst out laughing. “Okay, okay. Knock it off. How is that vegetables taste bad to a man